


And as my thoughts fly, you anchor me

by IAmNotOneOfThem



Category: Warcraft (2016), Warcraft - All Media Types
Genre: Ableism, M/M, Mentions of Death, adhd!khadgar, autistic!khadgar, disabled!khadgar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 14:01:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8404381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmNotOneOfThem/pseuds/IAmNotOneOfThem
Summary: The first time Lothar realises there is something odd about Stormwind's resident mage is long after the battle in which Llane lost his life. Up until then, things he had noticed had been stored away in his mind under the category of Khadgar acting strange, little quirks and peculiarities that made the young mage the person he was. That it was only after the battle – not war, not yet – had been won, Llane's funeral had taken place and some kind of normality had settled in once more was only natural, yet looking back, Lothar finds himself wondering how he could not have picked up on Khadgar's behaviour before.





	

The first time Lothar realises there is something odd about Stormwind's resident mage is long after the battle in which Llane lost his life. Up until then, things he had noticed had been stored away in his mind under the category of  _ Khadgar acting strange _ , little quirks and peculiarities that made the young mage the person he was. That it was only after the battle – not war, not yet – had been won, Llane's funeral had taken place and some kind of normality had settled in once more was only natural, yet looking back, Lothar finds himself wondering how he could not have picked up on Khadgar's behaviour before.

The first time he consciously notices something, it's during dinner with his sister, Varian, Adariall and the runaway mage-turned Guardian. Lothar felt proud at the fact he could read the discomfort visible in Khadgar's eyes, the tension in his muscles that wasn't hidden behind his rather unmoving face, which broke into an awkward smile when Varian bombarded him with questions about magic.

Lothar had always considered himself to be a very observant man, no matter what Taria said; his position as head of the guard and now regent required keen eyes and a sense for seeing things that have attempted to stay unnoticed, yet there was something about Khadgar that seemed to slip past his observation skills and left him with unanswered questions stuck in his head. Khadgar's discomfort at being around people, however, was as plain as the sun on a cloudless day. Lothar didn't know whether he was just shy or if it was the Queen's presence in particular that set him off, but whenever Taria invited Khadgar to dinner, a meeting or just for a walk, the tension Lothar could see now came out.

If Taria noticed, she never said anything; knowing her, she was doing her best to make the mage warm up to her and relax. The weight on his shoulders was one similar, yet completely different, from what Lothar carried himself. Someone so young should not have been pulled into war, forced to witness horrors, and then made Guardian, a position with duties unlike any other rank. It was only right that Khadgar learnt how to let go, how to breathe.

During their long time on the road together, Lothar had not once seen Khadgar eating, not even once. Somehow the mage had always been somewhere else during that time, if he remembered to eat at all. The frown that had appeared on Lothar's face at the realisation only deepened once he happened to turn his head slightly to the right, where Khadgar was sitting, pushing the food on his plate around.

At first Lothar attributed it to his nervousness, but then he noticed there was a pattern to Khadgar's movements. He wasn't just pushing his food around because he wasn't hungry or bored, but was pushing items apart, the chicken leg away from the cheese, the cheese, without touching it directly, away from the berries, the berries away from the sauce, until each item was separated from the others. He even tried to wipe off some sauce from a berry, but deeming it impossible, put the berry into the empty centre of the plate. A subtle cough from the opposite side of the table drew Lothar's attention away from Khadgar's plate and to his sister, who raised an eyebrow and gave him what he had dubbed the look. Lothar shook his head and dug into his own food, but his gaze, ever so often, wandered back to the young mage next to him.

Khadgar first ate the berries, with the exception of the one in the middle, then the chicken, ignoring the cheese completely. Everything separately, not together as it normally would be eaten, not even with sauce. No one but Lothar seemed to notice, or they were just being more subtle than him, but he couldn't be blamed – he'd never seen anyone eat like this.

“Anything wrong with the cheese, bookworm?” He asked around his chicken leg, internally pleased as Khadgar flinched, as if pulled from his thoughts. He did that often, Lothar had noticed; something seemed to catch his attention and everything else faded into nothingness, that something not always tangible and physical, often little more than a thought. During battle, it could have been a death sentence, but outside of battlefields, Lothar found it endearing. Not that he would ever say that out loud.

Khadgar blinked at Lothar and shook his head. “I'm full already,” he said, giving one of those shy smiles that Lothar found irresistible.

“Did you sneak into the kitchen again to steal some pastry?” The warrior grinned in delight as Khadgar averted his gaze to look at his plate. Part of him loved flustering the mage. Khadgar really made it far too easy, in his defence.

“No,” Khadgar replied. “If you'd like, you can have it for yourself.” He pushed the plate in Lothar's direction, who bowed his head in thanks, took the cheese and ate it.

Taria didn’t look all too happy about that – she had made it her mission to make sure Khadgar ate regularly, the mage being known to forget about eating when he had his nose buried in a book – and gave Lothar a glare, which he responded to by shrugging. If the mage didn't want the cheese, he'd eat it, lest it went to waste. A noble he might have been, but no one, not even the king, should be wasting food, especially in times of war. The thought made his stomach churn and something bitter, hot rise in his throat, his hand tightening to a fist. If Stormwind should ever be besieged, they’d need everything edible, the tiniest bits of food, to survive.

What they too would need, he thought, his gaze, without conscious thought, returning to Khadgar’s form, was a guardian who didn’t need to rely solemnly on magic. Who wasn’t completely harmless once his voice failed him or a hand closed over his mouth. He watched Khadgar’s hands draw symbols into the air as he explained to Varian how teleportation worked, and wondered how long they would remain as soft, as unmarked and free of callouses and scars, as they were now. Lothar bit into a piece of bread and forced his eyes to focus on the table. It was time to train the guardian in sword fighting.

xx

In all his years as an instructor, Lothar had seen many people not being able to properly handle a sword. Awkward positioning, arms not used to such a weight, the wrong stance that would allow an opponent to knock them to the ground without any effort; sometimes an initiate picked up the weapon and was a natural, as if made for this task alone, sometimes it took hard work, years upon years of tedious training and exercise until they got the hang of it. Lothar firmly believed anyone, peasants as well as nobles, could be shaped into good soldiers, decent fighters too, if they gave their all.

It was only rarely that he watched someone hold a sword and thought they were a lost cause. Men and women who were better suited to pursue another career. Khadgar, he felt, was amongst them.

At first, Khadgar had made clear that he didn’t want to learn how to fight. When they had first met, Lothar wouldn’t have thought Khadgar had such a loud voice, but boy, could he shout. Lothar was sure everyone, from the guards positioned near Khadgar’s room in the royal wing to the maidservants outside on the street, had heard him, whether they wanted to eavesdrop or not. A multitude of dirty thoughts cursed through Lothar’s brain at the thought; images of how he’d need to press a hand on Khadgar’s mouth during sex so he wouldn’t scream and alert the whole castle, or how he’d let him, let everyone know, let everyone hear how he brought the guardian…

Lothar pushed the thoughts away with a shake of his head and adjusted his trousers. There was a time and place to think about such things, and now wasn’t it. He didn’t want to be killed by a mage who tried, and failed, to control a sword and not decapacitate those around him in the process.

Had it been anyone else, Lothar would have suspected they were taking the piss out of him. He’d seen many people handling a sword for the first time and few, if any at all, had been this awkward with it. With a motion of his hand, Lothar sent a few guards, who had been training, away and stood up from the bench he had occupied the last ten minutes in which Khadgar had tried to hit the target dummy. There was not a single indentation in the wood.

“I told you this idea of yours is ridiculous,” Khadgar said to Lothar once he was close enough, letting the sword drop to the ground with little care. Lothar winced. “I can’t even hit an unmoving target.”

“I don’t think you’re lacking the strength,” Lothar said, “or else you wouldn’t have been able to hold it this long. It’s more the technique.”

Khadgar glared at him and raised an eyebrow, as if to say  _ really now, I would never have thought _ . Sarcastic bastard, Lothar thought, suppressed the urge to kiss Khadgar until he shut up, and picked up the blunt sword again. “I’m no expert on magic, but I’ve watched you a few times when casting. There are certain motions you have to perform to cast the spell and control it, and it’s really the same with a sword.” He demonstrated a simple attack. “Here, now you try.”

Khadgar took the sword from him and looked at the dummy with a barely noticeable frown. He stood, his eyes fixed somewhere on, and behind, the wooden surface, seemingly deep in thought. Lothar clapped once, regretting his decision when Khadgar swirled around and nearly hit him in the face with the sword hilt. Lothar stepped backwards to get out of reach.

“What had you so lost in thought, bookworm?” Lothar asked with a chuckle.

The mage shuffled from one foot to the other, a faint blush colouring his cheeks pink. Lothar wanted to lick along his jaw and down to his neck, just to see if he could make it darker, red. “I was distracted.”

“By?” Khadgar didn’t seem too keen on explaining as he mumbled something under his breath that could have been words, but was completely unintelligible. Lothar rolled his eyes fondly and pointed at the target. “Go ahead, bookworm. “It’s not that difficult.”

This time, Lothar understood what Khadgar grumbled – “easy to say for a warrior, wait until I have you cast spells” – before he lifted the sword in an awkward movement and tried to hit his target. Lothar watched him intently, which had nothing to do with the sweat that began to glisten on Khadgar’s skin, no. He merely wanted to see where the problem lay. The sword missed the mark, Khadgar’s swing too uncoordinated to steer it into the right direction, going past without so much as brushing the dummy. Maybe it was the weight, Lothar thought, frowning thoughtfully. Maybe it was the movement. What was clear was that this wouldn’t work.

Khadgar stumbled a few steps backwards due to the momentum, caught himself before he could fall and leant onto the sword, panting heavily. Lothar banished the images before they could come and stepped aside to where the training weapons were stored. Few guards here ever used this weapon, but a staff, Lothar thought as he took one from a chest, could be used to train the movements needed for a sword. Even if Khadgar would never be good with one, he’d have his staff around to defend himself with.

Lothar returned to the mage and threw the staff, a chuckle escaping his lips as Khadgar didn’t manage to catch it. He bent down to pick it up, giving Lothar a nice view of his well-formed arse. The head-of-guard allowed himself a nice, long look at his object of desire until Khadgar straightened up again.

“Let’s try fighting with a staff instead. I heard you mages prefer that anyway.” Lothar said, sheathing the training sword for later.

He watched as Khadgar looked at the staff curiously, ran his fingers along the fine marks of the wood, his hand moving up and down its length. Lothar swallowed and shook his head. Either Khadgar didn’t notice what he was doing, or he very well did and enjoyed putting thoughts in Lothar’s head.  _ Mischievous mage _ .

“Hit the dummy a few times, then you can test your skills against a moving and sentient enemy.” Khadgar’s unbelieving look made Lothar huff. “Really, you can’t hurt me with a wooden staff. If you can hit me at all, that is.” He winked and smirked when Khadgar bristled at the challenge and turned towards the dummy, weighting the staff in his hands.

The first few hits missed, the fourth or fifth finally made the dummy rock left. Lothar had already lifted his hands to clap, but Khadgar glared at him from the corner of his eyes, and Lothar sunk his arms again. No teasing the mage, it seemed. Instead he leant against the wall behind him and crossed his arms in front of his chest, observing.

Taria would have accused him of ogling, but she wasn’t there, and who could judge him.

No matter the weather, Khadgar always wore long-sleeved robes. Up to this day, Lothar had not seen him bare-skinned, as much as he longed for it, the sight of naked skin. Even now that their training has left Khadgar hot and sweaty, he did not roll his sleeves up, which made him sweat only more. Lothar wouldn’t complain. There was something so very alluring, so irresistible, about a panting Khadgar, arms tense as muscles worked to hit the dummy over and over again, his robe edging up just enough to expose the soft, pale skin at the curve where arse and back met.

So what if he was ogling, Lothar thought, tilting his head for a better view. Only a fool would not see how attractive Khadgar was, and Lothar was no fool. He had seen it the first time they had met and still stood firmly by his belief; even those without sight wouldn’t be blind to Khadgar’s beauty, outer and inner.

It had taken a while, time filled with tragedy and adrenaline, to realise the depth of his feelings for the young mage. Something rawer, more vulnerable, than pure lust, something that had scared him for a very long time. Everyone he loved seemed to be cursed, to be swept away by death. First Cally, then Callan, and finally Llane. Everything he touched, clung to in hopes of never having to let go, withered. He had distanced himself from Khadgar, torn between wanting Khadgar to leave Stormwind, get away from him, and wanting him to stay. Someone so young, so pure and innocent, should not be allowed to be anywhere someone like him, where he could be tainted. He was old, wounded and scarred; Khadgar was everything he was not.

But no matter how he had tried to stay away, he couldn’t do so for long. Khadgar was the light, the hope that kept him sane, that, together with his sister, nephews and his duties for Stormwind, kept him alive. More addicting than alcohol and far more seductive, even if Khadgar didn’t know the effect he had on him.

Lothar smiled when Khadgar hit the dummy again, this time strongly enough to make the dummy reel backwards, just to snap forward again within seconds, nearly knocking Khadgar off his feet, had the mage not jumped out of reach.

“Well done!” Lothar exclaimed as he pushed himself off the wall. “Now try to hit me.”

“You’re not even wearing a helmet. I’d rather not give you a concussion.”

Lothar laughed. “Don’t worry, bookworm, I doubt that will happen.”

Khadgar looked uncertain for a few more breaths, standing there holding the staff in both of his hands, visibly exhausted, before he nodded and, with a long sigh, attacked.

His movements were awkward. There was something off about the way he walked, something Lothar couldn’t put a finger on. It seemed, for the lack of a better word, unsure. Somewhat stiff, as if walking on stilts, without any harmonious rhythm. It was a harsh contrast to the movements he’d seen Khadgar make when casting spells; fine, graceful motions of fingers drawing shapes into the dirt. He didn’t think about it too much, focused instead on Khadgar approaching, lifting the staff and bringing it down in an attack.

Lothar didn’t dodge, fully expecting Khadgar to gently tap gently, take away most of the force, if he even managed to gain enough momentum to actually hurt. Lothar did not expect it to hurt, but by the light,  _ did it hurt _ . Lothar shouted in pain when the staff collided with his head strong enough to make him drop to his knees and groaned at the pounding behind his eyes. For a moment, stars danced before his eyes, disappearing only when he shook his head. Lothar looked up and glared at a very surprised- and guilty-looking Khadgar, staff clutched to his chest.

“I’m sorry?” Khadgar tried, holding his hands up in defence.

“You’re sorry.” The head of guard looked at Khadgar as if he had lost his minds. “Did you ever hear of holding back when training? Or was that revenge for something?” He rubbed his head and got back to his feet with a sigh. He could already feel the bump form where Khadgar had hit him. “I had no idea you had this much strength.”

“Neither did I,” Khadgar admitted. “I’m really sorry. Do you want to take a break?”

Lothar laughed dryly and unsheathed his sword with a smirk. “No. I’ve taken worse. Now that I know you can defend yourself, I’ll stop going easy on you.”

Khadgar’s eyes widened. It made Lothar only grin more.

xx

“Khadgar.”

“Khadgar.”

“ _ Khadgar _ .”

Lothar threw his hands up in frustration. There was no getting through to the mage once he had buried his nose in a book. It was like his mind was in another world while his body remained here, nothing but a shell that kept him alive.

Not much longer when he won’t eat, Lothar thought, lifting his hand. He wanted to reach out and shake Khadgar’s shoulder, but he stopped, fingers hovering just inches away.

He remembered what had happened last time someone touched Khadgar without warning him first. Remembered the soldier who had wanted to inform Khadgar food was ready, from what Lothar had gathered in the aftermath of the incident. As was often the case when Khadgar was reading, he had not reacted. Unmoving, except for his breathing and the turning of pages, Khadgar had not seemed to notice someone was talking to him, so the guard had turned to other methods. The moment his hand had come to rest on Khadgar’s shoulder, the mage had begun to  _ scream _ .

The sound was one Lothar would never be able to forget. Khadgar had screamed until Lothar had somehow, he didn’t remember the specifics, managed to calm him down, had sat next to Khadgar until the young mage’s breathing had evened out again, until colour had returned to his cheeks and he had stopped gently rocking back and forth. He didn’t like being touched, Khadgar had told him in private, especially not when he didn’t see it coming.

Lothar moved to draw back his hand, but had no idea how else to get Khadgar’s attention. He carefully reached around him to close the book, but even that didn’t draw Khadgar from his trance. The mage didn’t even blink. If he had not been breathing, Lothar would already have yelled for healers.

Which left only one option. Mentally bracing himself for the scream, he reached out, slowly, and rested his hand on Khadgar’s shoulder. Khadgar’s head snapped to the side to see who it was, mouth drawn into a thin line until his eyes met Lothar’s. It was a curious thing, Lothar mused, staring into the mage’s soft, brown eyes. Khadgar either avoided eye contact like it was the plague or stared unblinking and unfaltering until the other person averted their gaze first. There was no in-between.

Lothar smiled softly at the mage and squeezed his shoulder. “Is the book that interesting?”

The young man frowned, then looked sheepish. “You know, I actually do not remember.” Khadgar scratched the back of his head. “I was reading something about a specific kind of plant that can be used to enhance one’s magical abilities, then my thoughts drifted off to the last time I accompanied you and your guards to the woods to search for herbs, which in turn made me think-“

Lothar gently put his hand on Khadgar’s mouth to stop his rambling before it could get any worse. The mage continued speaking for a few more seconds, his lips brushing against Lothar’s palm, seemingly not noticing the hand that muted him, until he finally stopped. Lothar waited a moment before releasing him again. He patted Khadgar’s shoulder and grinned.

“As much as I enjoy your babbling,” he said, his grin widening as Khadgar blushed faintly. “My dear sister sent me to remind you to eat something.” He presented Khadgar with a plate of cheeses and bread. “So I brought you…” Lothar trailed off. Khadgar had looked at the plate only a moment, before turning away again, something akin to disgust on his face. “Something wrong?”

Khadgar hesitated. Lothar could see it in the way he narrowed his brows and worried his lower lip between his teeth, looking anywhere but Lothar and his plate. Slowly, Lothar put the plate away again, out of sight, and was pleased to see Khadgar relaxing at least a bit.

“I do not eat cheese,” Khadgar finally replied after what felt like ages of silence. “I find it… repulsive.”

“Repulsive?” Lothar repeated with a frown. “How can you… you know, nevermind. It doesn’t matter. I think I can get some leftover meat from today’s dinner from the kitchen and some bread.” He squeezed Khadar’s shoulder and turned to leave, but paused in the doorframe. “Do not think I’m judging you, bookworm, when I ask this: Would you prefer the food items not to touch?”

Khadgar didn’t say anything for a long while, in which Lothar worried he had offended him somehow. Maybe it was a delicate topic, one Khadgar wanted to keep to himself, and now he knew someone else had noticed. Lothar wanted to say it was of no importance, but Khadgar already replied. “Yes, please.”

Lothar relaxed – he hadn’t even noticed he had tensed – and closed the door behind him.

When he later brought Khadgar a new plate, without any cheese, the young man ate happily while telling Lothar of the book, at least the parts he remembered. Lothar sat on Khadgar’s bed and smiled softly to himself, thinking little was more beautiful than seeing Khadgar’s eyes light up as he gesticulated and babbled on.

xx

 

Social events such as the dinner were stressful times for everyone involved. Preparations had to be made, safety measures had to be taken, a hustle and bustle days before the guests arrived. Lothar sipped on the wine a servant had given him and let his eyes wander across the familiar and unfamiliar faces that constituted the crowd.

Following Llane’s death, Taria had done her best to assure Stormwind’s allies that the city stood strong, despite the losses it had suffered. Most of the diplomatic stuff Lothar left to his sister, feeling more comfortable with battle strategies and fighting, but even he knew the importance of keeping composure. Some nobles would be too happy to see Stormwind struggle. It was important to show the Alliance they could recover, recompose, strike back. Keeping up appearances, Taria would say, which included not drinking too much. Well, a glass of wine certainly wouldn’t raise rumours, Lothar thought and downed his drink.

Drawn by a small gathering of mostly noble women, Lothar’s gaze found Khadgar who, standing right in the middle of the ladies, looked like he had just seen an orc.

The new Guardian was today’s hot topic; everyone seemed to want to meet the young mage, forge alliances, ensure his support in royal and political affairs. Having the Guardian on your side, even unofficially, as he was supposed to stay neutral, was an opportunity none of the nobles could let go to waste. Lothar caught Khadgar’s gaze and lifted his glass in an encouraging toast, which Khadgar returned with a stiff nod.

He wasn’t made for social events, especially not those that involved a large crowd. Everyone knowing Khadgar well could see he was uncomfortable, tense. He smiled and seemed to be giving replies, but he wasn’t gesticulating, as he would always do when he was excited about a topic. Politics most likely, Lothar assumed, feeling sympathy. Those kinds of talks were hardly entertaining.

Lothar felt charitable today and decided to rescue Khadgar from the harpies. That decision had nothing to do with the way they cornered the mage, would reach out to brush a hand along his arm, which Khadgar seemed to tolerate, if only barely. He couldn’t just leave Khadgar to be eaten alive, could he? It was clear Khadgar was out of his depth.

How blind did one have to be to not notice he looked uncomfortable, ready to bolt?

Lothar picked up bits of conversation as he approached the small group. They seemed to have asked him about the war, as Khadgar, when Lothar was within reach, was talking about their battle against Medivh. Or rather, he must have started there. At the time Lothar stepped next to him, he was describing how he turned a guard into a sheep, only to then abandon the story of their journey to Karazhan to drift off into mumbling about the softness of wool.

While Lothar found it endearing, how no thought could hold Khadgar’s attention for very long, the noble women seemed to be put off. One cleared his throat. Khadgar paused and looked at her, blinked, then blushed faintly. “Right, the fight against Medivh. As I was saying-“

“My apologies, my ladies, but the Guardian is needed somewhere else,” Lothar stepped in, wrapped his hand around Khadgar’s arm and tugged him along before anyone could protest. “If you’d excuse us.”

Khadgar didn’t object to being dragged along, though he did roll his eyes at Taria when she threw a confused gaze in their direction. Lothar went past the party and pushed open a door that led to a small balcony out in the fresh air. He let go off Khadgar and grinned. “You’re welcome.”

“What for?” Khadgar huffed at him. “For unceremoniously dragging me through the whole hall after pulling me away from a conversation?”

Lothar shrugged. “I wouldn’t exactly call that a conversation. It was more of a monologue while they were feeling you up.” He had not meant to sound so jealous, angry, about their behaviour, but the words left his mouth like a bark. It had bothered him greatly to see someone else touch Khadgar, someone other than him. What they had intended to do had been very clear.

Khadgar seemed oblivious to Lothar’s change of tone. He had lifted his head to look at the stars above them, wonder written in his eyes. Lothar couldn’t see any constellation, just a random cluster of stars that happened to be close to each other, without any meaning, and yet Khadgar looked like it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. To Lothar, Khadgar was far more beautiful.

“Thanks for coming in to rescue me,” Khadgar finally said after a few moments of silence, “but I could have handled myself. I had already decided which one to turn into a sheep.”

Lothar blinked. He tried to tell whether Khadgar was joking, but he looked serious, as if he truly meant it. The warrior could only imagine the chaos that would have broken out; the screams, the laughter, and Khadgar in the middle of it. “I would only show them what being polymorphed feels like,” Khadgar elaborated and the corners of his lips twitched up in a smirk.

Lothar couldn’t help himself and started laughing. It felt good; his body was shaking, tears were stinging in his eyes, and he realised he had not laughed for a very long time, not since his son… He steadied himself by clinging to the railing and closed his eyes as he threw back his head, laughing until his sides hurt, bark-like sounds echoing through the silence of the night, far away from the party.

Khadgar stood next to him silently, a bright, warm smile on his face. It took all of Lothar’s self-control not to kiss him right then.

Instead, he forced himself to stop laughing and patted Khadgar on the back. “Let’s get back to the guests, bookworm. Not everyone’s had have a piece of the Guardian yet.”

Khadgar sighed loudly and gave him a glare that said  _ do I have to _ ? Together, they walked back into the dining room. If their shoulders and arms were brushing, none of them mentioned it.

xx

 

In times of war, holding council was important to coordinate troop movements and plan ahead. Even though they had taken a heavy blow, the orcs weren’t done yet, occasionally attacking villages and small towns all across the country. They were coming closer to Stormwind, faster than they had expected, and it was time to act before they could launch an attack.

If only the strategical meetings weren’t this tedious and boring.

Lothar bit back a groan as the third officer stepped forward to deliver his report, after the second had finally finished. He didn’t know how much time had passed since the meeting had begun, but the sun was already at its peak and Lothar was certain it had only just risen as they had come into the room. As head of the guard, he knew of the importance of strategy, of thinking before acting, but there was a difference between preparing an attack and talking through every possible scenario. The latter, he had come to learn in the course of the day, was far less interesting.

His eyes met Taria’s, who outwardly appeared to be listening intently, but he knew his sister well enough to notice her fascination with the sky outside. Khadgar, attending the meeting as Azeroth’s Guardian, didn’t look much more interested either. He was playing with one of the figures used for the battle plans, rolling it between his fingers, along his palm. His whole attention seemed to be focused on the task, so much he didn’t notice that he was being addressed.

Lothar gently nudged the mage, who flinched, noticed all eyes were on him and gave a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry?”

The lord repeated his question. Khadgar nodded along, but seemed to be struggling to focus; his eyes were darting off and he was worrying his lower lip between his teeth. Lothar reached out and lay a hand on Khadgar’s, giving it a squeeze. That seemed to help.

“You said you were making progress at translating the note we intercepted,” Lothar paraphrased. When Kadgar nodded, he continued. “Could you translate something?”

Khadgar was silent for a few moments, then cleared his throat and shook his head. “Only a little,” he replied. “They seem to be using something similar to our alphabet, but also runes. There are words I managed to translate, others are not as clear. And even if I could figure out what the runes would mean in our alphabet, the meaning isn’t always clear. Take the prefix ‘Lok’ for example, it doesn’t seem to have a fixed meaning. It’s almost like magic, when you think about it. There is a spell that, theoretically, means one thing, but could also mean the opposite. One time at Dalaran we tried to-“

“Khadgar.” The mage shut his mouth with a click of teeth and blushed. “What did you manage to translate?”

“Something about a camp which they have set up near human settlements. And, I think,” he added, “something about being ready for orders?”

Lothar gave Khadgar’s knee one more squeeze before letting go. He turned back to the lords and guards at the table and folded his hands on the table. “It appears they are planning a major attack. We have to send out scouts, maybe we can find this camp the note mentions. I’d like four scouts going North…”

When Taria ended the meeting and said they’d continue the next day, it had already got dark outside. Most of the lords immediately fled, as if afraid she could change her mind, and Khadgar too, after exchanging a few words with Lothar, called it a day and blinked to his room. Lothar had turned to leave too, but one of the lords, one from Gilneas, if he wasn’t mistaken, approached him once they were alone.

“If I may have a word?” Lothar frowned, but gestured the man to continue. “The Guardian… is he…” The man waved his hand in front of his face. At Lothar’s blank look, he coughed. “You know… he’s quite odd, isn’t he? Don’t you think someone… normal… should be the Guardian?”

The question took Lothar off-guard. Of all the things he would have expected to be asked about, none included Khadgar. Something in his face must have shown, because the lord held up his hands in defense. “I do not mean any offence, my lord. I’m just concerned, that is all. The protector of Azeroth should not be…” Again, he gestured in front of his face.

Lothar’s body acted quicker than his mind could catch up. His fist connected with the man’s nose and sent him flying against the wall with a loud thud. Had it not been for the guards that held Lothar by his arms and pulled him back, he would have landed a second punch. Lothar snarled at the one holding him, but she didn’t relent, letting go only once they put enough distance between the two men.

“If you dare speak about the Guardian like this ever again,” Lothar spat. “I’ll end you, is that clear? I’ll cut off your tongue, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll-“

“I think that’s enough, my lord,” the second guard said and with a nod to his colleague bent down to take care of the Gilnean noble. The other guard tugged on Lothar’s arm and forced him out of the room.

Which was why Lothar woke up with a stiff neck and aching back from a night spent in the dungeons, his cell just as uncomfortable as he remembered it being. Taria had been informed of his outbreak and had ordered him to be locked away for the night, to think about what he had done. One could not simply punch a noble, not even when one acted as king. Lothar didn’t particularly care about politics and did not regret what he had done; he’d punch that bastard again if it came down to it.

Someone had insulted Khadgar. He couldn’t let such behaviour go unpunished.

“You know,” a voice echoed through the dungeon, swiftly followed by Khadgar stepping into Lothar’s line of view. “The situation feels very familiar, as if I have already bailed you out once before.”

“Very funny,” Lothar drawled. “Did you turn the guards into sheep again?”

Khadgar chuckled at that. “No, I haven’t. I’ve come to take you to breakfast.”

Lothar groaned. “I’d rather stay here, to be honest. At least here she can’t yell at me and drag me by the ear.”

Khadgar raised an eyebrow and shrugged. He approached Lothar’s cell and opened the door, leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms. “Rumours travel fast through the castle,” he began. “But as always, some things get lost, some are added. I’d like to hear from you why you thought it wise to punch a noble hard enough to break his nose.”

“He had a very punchable face,” Lothar said. Khadgar did not look like he had found his joke funny. Lothar sighed. “Fine, your judgemental expression works even better than Taria’s, I swear. He insulted you.”

Khadgar narrowed his eyes and frowned. “He insulted me?”

Lothar felt himself getting agitated once more, the memories of yesterday’s encounter being washed up together with hot, ugly fury that made him want to punch the bastard again. Lothar growled, jumped to his feet and paced through his cell. “Yes, he said you… shouldn’t be Guardian because he, and I quote, thinks someone normal should have the position.”

Khadgar didn’t reply. Lothar stopped in his pacing and looked at the mage, searched his face for any hurt or even tears that threatened to spill, but Khadgar’s face was emotionless except for his eyes, which were wide and vulnerable.

“He has no idea what he is talking about, don’t pay any attention to his words. He’s just an idiot who thinks he can-“

“He is right, you know.” Lothar stared at Khadgar, who smiled sadly. “I argued the same thing. Someone else should be made Guardian, I said, someone who doesn’t have my problems. Sometimes I can’t focus on one thing. It feels like there are hundreds of different thoughts in my head, which in turn make me think about a thousand other things. Sometimes I forget things in a matter of seconds. Most of the time I have to constantly tell myself to stay focused, and even then my mind drifts off. There’s no escape; I can’t just run away from myself. There are so many thoughts and there’s nowhere I can put them. That’s not Guardian material. What if I’m distracted during an important battle and because of me people die? What if I forget to do something and it has huge consequences? I tried to tell your sister that someone else should succeed Medivh, but they…”

In his speaking Khadgar had come close enough for Lothar to reach out to him. Close enough to bury his fingers in Khadgar’s shirt and to pull him close, until the mage’s nose brushed against his own. Close enough for Lothar to close the distance that still was between them and to press his lips on the mage’s to shut him up.

Khadgar had completely gone still against him, his eyes wide, unbelieving. Lothar was about to pull away again, to apologise, but then Khadgar carefully kissed back and his eyes fluttered close. It was nothing like he had imagined their first kiss to go, but also everything he had expected it to be and feel like. The feeling of Khadgar’s breath on his face, the feeling of the mage’s lips moving against his own; it was like time stood still.

When Lothar pulled away, it was to breathe. He couldn’t help but feel relieved when Khadgar automatically leant forward again to seek another kiss, only to catch himself and blush in a deep red. It wasn’t as red as he’d like to make Khadgar flush one day, red like a tomato, but it was an improvement. The sight made something inside of Lothar stir.

“I punched him because he insulted you, don’t make me punch you because you are doing the same to yourself,” Lothar whispered. “There is no one I believe is more suited for the position of the Guardian, no one I would more gladly see have a say in Azeroth’s destiny than you. I don’t care about those things you described and neither do the people. What counts is that you are there for them and do your best to protect those you love.”

“But-“

Lothar shut Khadgar up again with a kiss. This time, as a small punishment, he bit into Khadgar’s lower lip, and was delighted to see him flush even more. “No buts,” Lothar said. “I won’t hear it. Focus issues can be dealt with. I’ll give you something to focus on. Now, do I need to kiss you again or do you finally believe me?”

Khadgar tilted his head, seeming lost in thought. For a moment, Lothar feared he had overstepped his boundaries, but then Khadgar broke out into a huge grin, a beam that seemed to light up the room. “I think you need to kiss me again.”

And Lothar did.

**Author's Note:**

> Khadgar's symptoms were based on my own and that of a friend - QueenHarleyQuinn - who allowed me to pester her with questions concerning her life with ADHD, and thus do not represent all people within those spectrums.


End file.
